


When Oliver Met Felicity (and When Felicity Met Oliver)

by stacydm



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stacydm/pseuds/stacydm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 11 times Oliver thinks he crosses paths with Felicity, and the 4 times Felicity thinks she crosses paths with Oliver.</p>
<p>What happens when they both find out the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Oliver met Felicity Smoak...

Oliver Queen had crossed paths with Felicity Smoak a total of eleven times. And each time, he fell a little more in love with her.

The first time, he was Oliver Queen, and she was just a beautiful girl in the elevator who forcefully ignored him. She didn't say hello when he said hi. She only glared at him for a second with those stunning blue eyes of hers, and then returned those eyes to some point in the distance, a sour look plastered onto her bright red lips.

He immediately looked her up after that.

Felicity Smoak, I.T. Specialist, her file had said.

_Well, Felicity Smoak,_ Oliver thought _, it's time we get to know each other_.  

Knowing that she wasn't exactly receptive to Oliver Queen, he visited her as the Vigilante instead, with a shot-up laptop and a lame excuse. And she charmed the hell out of him. It was the first time he had felt like a human being since arriving home from Lian Yu. And he wanted to feel that way again.

So, like an addict, he returned to her again and again, asking for her help at finding an old friend, the owner of a black arrow, and data on an encrypted fob. Each time he lingered, longer and longer, and each time his urge to touch her grew.

The sixth time he saw Felicity, he was Oliver Queen again. He imagined she would have looked equally as annoyed with him as that first time in the elevator, but she hadn't noticed him. She was too busy staring intently at her tablet to see him, and, since Oliver wanted her to, he stepped quickly into her path.

They tumbled to the floor together, the latte she held soaking through Oliver's white shirt, and his hands grasping her waist, a thrill running through him at the contact.

"What the...oh. Mr. Queen."  
"Sorry about that," he grinned at her, and Felicity's frown intensified. She scrambled to her feet, adjusting her glasses and pencil skirt as she rose, and collecting her empty cup and tablet from the floor. With a single nod, she scurried down the hall, and disappeared around the corner.

Oliver had a difficult time reconciling the Felicity Smoak he knew as Oliver Queen with the Felicity Smoak he knew as the Vigilante. But honestly, her dislike of Oliver Queen only made him fall for her more.

It didn't take long for him to see her again. First, there was the vertigo incident. The Vigilante showed up at her townhome with a syringe, hoping she'd have some way to analyze the contents. Next, she sought him out, bringing with her a copy of the book his father gave to him. Not that she knew that part. She only knew his targets had come from the book, and therefore knew he was, somehow, connected to Walter Steele' s disappearance. And she explained to him that she desperately wanted Mr. Steele back at the office.

When he asked her why, he couldn't help but laugh at her response.

"Because I will **_never_** work for Oliver Queen."

When he told her he'd do his best to not let that happen, she surprised them both by giving him a quick kiss on his hooded cheek.

Oliver wasn't sure what to do with the kiss. He wanted Felicity, more than he'd ever wanted another person, but she lived in the light, and the part of him that did, the Oliver Queen part, wasn't exactly someone who Felicity seemed to want to kiss.

It wasn't long after her lips found his cheek that his lips found her bright pink ones. He'd been shot, by his mother of all people, and he knew that it might be the end. So, with all the stealth he could muster, he made his way to Felicity's office, and kissed her, with the belief that it would be their one and only kiss. When she moaned into his mouth and dragged her fingers through the stubble on his cheek, he thought he finally understood what it was to be happy.

His happiness was short lived, lasting only until he shifted, and the bullet wound made itself known once again.

He convinced her to drive him towards the Queen Steel Factory in the Glades, where Diggle, dressed in a second hood, picked him up and kept him from dying.

And he doesn't. Die that is. But before he could let Felicity know, his phone rang, his mother calling about the Vigilante attack and the need for his presence at QC...immediately.

Oliver arrived at QC to the sight of his blonde IT girl. And she looked like...not terrible, because Oliver doesn't think Felicity could ever look terrible...but her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed and he's confident she's spent the better part of the night in tears. She looked up at him in the same moment, clearly taken aback that Oliver Queen was staring, and her eyes narrowed with disgust.

He sent her a text right then, and felt instantly better when her face brightened.

A few days later, he contacted her. There was a new criminal in town, by the name of the Dodger, and they needed her in the field to hack into the tracker on a priceless artifact. He was anything but shocked when she instantly agreed.

But things didn't go as planned and Felicity ended up with a bomb around her neck. Even though the Dodger was caught and Felicity was saved, Oliver couldn't handle the thought of losing her.

His fear led him to her townhouse in the early hours of the morning. He was convinced he knew exactly what he was going to say to stop her from becoming more involved in his life. That he was too dangerous for someone as wonderful as her. That he's a mess, and that she's the best thing that's ever happened to him. That he's going to leave her alone, before either of them lose each other.

But his thoughts disappeared when she unlatched her bedroom window, took his face between her hands, and kissed him with an equal passion to that first time. His hands quickly found her ass, and, finding it to be clad in only the thinnest of sleep shorts, he removed his gloves to get the first feel of her silky skin.

The kisses she started to trail down his jawline and neck forced a guttural growl from him, and when he slid his fingers along the inside of her waistband, he earned a similar growl from her. He wanted to taste her so badly, and the way that she was gripping onto him made him think that she wouldn't mind, so he started with her neck, moved to her collarbone, and then freed one of her breasts, sucking her nipple until it was taut.

He grunted, only now realizing that Felicity had wrapped her legs around him and was busy writhing against his cock. She fit into him so perfectly and he knew that if he didn't move her soon, his leathers were not only going to be tight, but wet. He lowered them onto her bed, and she immediately latched her mouth back to his, fiddling with his pants, and he drew her shorts down those long, sexy legs, and left her mouth to kiss her thighs, knees, shins, and feet.

He could feel her grasping his shoulders, and quickly disposed of his quiver before kissing his way back up to her stomach, which he held with his hand before moving his mouth to her clit. He needed to pleasure her first, knowing that as soon as she let him enter her, he would be a goner. Her hand intertwined with his as she giggled about how she wished she knew his name so she could call it out. Her words were a little jumbled, and a little staccato, and Oliver knew she was close. With a few last twirls with his tongue, he added a finger and curled it slightly, grinning with satisfaction as Felicity called out a series of moans and fucks.

He kissed her body softly as she came down from her high, and, when her panting became just whispers of breath, she caught his eye. There was a mischievous twinkle in them, and ever so slowly, Felicity moved her hands to her tank-top covered breasts. Oliver couldn't bite back his moan and he watched her massage her nipples into peaks.

With a seductive pace, she peeled off her tank-top, and Oliver finally broke eye contact with her to admire the rosy nipples she was still toying with.

No longer able to wait, he took the nipple he ignored earlier between his fingers and captured her mouth with his, tangling his tongue with hers. He could feel her hands near his cock, and he smiled, more than ready to be out of his leathers.

Felicity let out a frustrated growl at his pants, and moved to his jacket. Without exposing his identity, she unzippered the hood, feeling up his back and down along the curve of his ass. She playfully slapped it before pushing him back a few inches and climbing to her knees. Oliver mimicked her actions, towering over her as he sat back onto his heels.

"I don't need to know who you are...not yet...if you're not ready...," she mumbled, "But I do need you out of those pants, and clearly my fingers aren't quite--"

She gasped, cutting herself off, and pulled open his jacket, her eyes focused on the Bratva tattoo inked into his chest.

"Get out," she whispered, clutching her sheets around her naked body.

Oliver was so stunned by the turn of events that he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

"What's wrong? Talk to me Felicity."  
"Get out," she said, louder than before. More determined. Angrier. "Get out, get out, get out!"

It wasn't her anger that made his feet shuffle towards his bow and her unlatched window. It was the fear in her voice. How it broke on the last words. How tears started to form in her eyes.

He wasn't sure what happened.

He wasn't sure what made her scared.

But damnit if he was going to let her go that easily.


	2. When Felicity Met Oliver Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reason Felicity isn't Oliver Queen's biggest fan...

Felicity Smoak had crossed paths with Oliver Queen four times in her life. She had hoped, after the Gambit went down in 2007, that the grand total of meetings would be one, but apparently the fates were not so kind.

The first time she met him was in Boston, during her second year at MIT. She was running low on cash, and had conveniently heard from her roommate, Hannah, about a high stakes poker game.

Hannah and her weren't exactly best friends, but they got along perfectly fine for two people who were more opposite than alike. Their most significant difference was Hannah's opinion on the important things in life. She was a social climber, and of the belief that status and money made a person better. And so Hannah infiltrated Harvard the minute she arrived in Boston, looking for opportunity in the form of a man, and found it, in the ever pompous Carter Bowen.

Felicity couldn't stand Carter, and thankfully, didn't have to very often. But his connections came in handy occasionally, and this poker game was one of those times. Her winnings from one night would easily cover her next semester, and her need for the money outweighed the headache that Carter would inevitably give her.

Unfortunately, the poker game didn't end up with Felicity banking thousands. It only left her with a migraine.

She was up, with over sixteen grand in chips, and ready to cash out, when Hannah called her, crying and demanding that she come to the ladies room. When Felicity arrived, it was obvious that her roommate was high on something. Hannah's drug use wasn't out of the norm--she'd always been the type of girl who liked to live on the edge between fun and danger. It was actually one of Hannah's only traits that Felicity was jealous of. 

But before Felicity could get Hannah home and learn the reason for her tears, the police raided the club. Apparently the owners lacked the proper paperwork for liquor distribution and gambling. The night ended with her, Hannah, Carter Bowen, Tommy Merlyn, and Oliver Queen, along with a cast of other unknown partiers, in a jail cell, where Felicity had her sixteen thousand dollars seized and witnessed a Hannah and Carter blow up.

Rumour had it that Hannah's tears were because Ollie Queen duped her into sleeping with him.

Things for Hannah snowballed from there. There had been drugs, a lot of drugs, at the party, and according to the Bowen, Queen, and Merlyn lawyers, who showed up three days later, there was only one person at fault: Hannah.

Charges were laid, and MIT promptly expelled her from the program. Felicity tried to help Hannah out, visiting her when she could, hacking into the police records to understand the evidence they had against her, and testifying on behalf of her friend.

But nothing she did mattered. Because Hannah lost herself to drugs shortly after her life fell apart. Because, only a year after her break up and expulsion and drug charges, Hannah overdosed.

And Felicity blamed Oliver Queen.

Potentially it was easier to pick him than the other billionaires at fault or her victimized friend, because at that point Oliver Queen had already been lost to the sea.

Considering her grudge against the deceased Queen heir, it was a surprise to even her when she accepted an interview at Queen Consolidated, nevermind the job that was offered to her on the spot. But Oliver and Robert Queen were long gone, and Walter Steele now ran the show. And he was different than she expected. He was kind and sincere, and the offer he put on the table was too hard to refuse.

Felicity, after some deliberation, accepted the job.

The fact that Oliver Queen had been lost on the Gambit and was long dead was certainly a contributing factor to her signing the offer.

And she was happy that she did sign. As terrible as her association with the Queen name was, she enjoyed her work at QC. She was paid well above average, she had some wonderful opportunities with the Applied Sciences Division, her boss was typically good, and Walter had found her some of the best mentors in the business.

So when the news blared that Oliver Queen was alive and had returned to Starling City, Felicity ate her way through two containers of mint chip and prepped her resume and online profile.

But her fears were for nought. Oliver Queen didn't waltz into QC and immediately take it over from Walter Steele. It seemed that she wasn't the only one who realized the heir to the throne hadn't been busy getting a degree while he was playing dead on some remote island.  And soon enough, she was absorbed in new tasks and new work, and completely forgot about the prodigal son's return.

It wasn't until that morning when she rushed into the elevator, late for her department's update, that reality came crashing back.

Because there he was, standing in her elevator, his face devoid of any recognition.

Felicity purposefully ignored him, biting her lip to stop herself from ranting about how it was both ridiculous and reasonable that he didn't recognize her. Because, in her mind, he'd probably spent lots of nights in a jail cell with people he didn't know and screwed lots of college girls, in more ways than one.

 When she heard him say hello, she couldn't stop herself from shooting him a glare.

She skipped the department meeting, too pissed off to deal with people, and spent her day locked in her office, finishing up her project work before typing up a resignation letter. She had more than enough in her savings to last until she found work elsewhere, and was pretty confident she'd be scooped up by one of QC's competitors by week's end.

Just as she was proofing the letter to Walter, she heard a throat clear, interrupted by the only thing on the news other than Oliver Queen's latest escapades.

The Vigilante stopping by QC with a busted laptop, and specifically by Felicity's office, was more than curious. His towering, muscley physique didn't exactly resemble any of her fellow computer geniuses, and so she the idea that he knew who she was and where he could find her was outlandish, at best.

And the computer he brought her was equally as curious, because of his atrocious lie about its owner and because its contents indirectly involved Walter.

There was also what Felicity guessed was flirting. She cursed herself for not being immune to him, but he was all height and broad shoulders and commanding personality and danger, which gave Felicity a thrill that only counting cards had matched.

So she didn't send Walter her resignation, choosing to stay in case the Vigilante needed her again, which he did. The more he came to her for help, the longer he stayed, and the deeper Felicity fell.

She, of course, reprimanded her ever-growing feelings for the Vigilante. He wasn't exactly boyfriend material, what with the secret life, lack of a real name, and habit of sometimes putting arrows in people. But even though she couldn't picture a happy, suburban life with him, the butterflies and concern for his well-being didn't stop.

Sadly, Felicity couldn't spend all her time sorting out her twisted feelings for the masked man. Walter had assigned her a sensitive task, so the mysterious Vigilante had to take a backseat the mystery of Tempest and Walter's notebook.

The two mysteries collided the third time she crossed paths with Oliver Queen.

She was busy running an algorithm that ran the notebook's names with recent (and not-so-recent) news. Felicity was surprised when the Vigilante's hit list coincided with too many names for coincidence alone and was so absorbed in the algorithm's results that she didn't notice anyone in front of her until it was too late.

Felicity felt large hands grasping her hips, and was about to tell off whoever spilled her latte and potentially broke her baby when she was distracted by a crudely drawn, multi-pointed star under a soaked-through white dress shirt.

"What the...." Glancing up, and taking note of who she landed on, she wished her latte had been boiling hot instead of lukewarm. "Oh. Mr. Queen."   
"Sorry about that," he grinned.

Felicity wanted to smack him. His grubby hands hadn't left her waist and he didn't seem at all eager to move. Part of her thought that maybe he'd purposely walked in front of her, because he didn't have a phone, or a coffee, or a tablet, or anything that would have distracted him from watching where he was walking. But she dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. The idea that Oliver Queen would _want_ to run into her and risk staining his thousand dollar shirt was as likely as the Vigilante and her kissing.

_Bad comparison_ , Felicity thought. She wouldn't exactly mind if the Vigilante and her locked lips. She actually had a pretty amazing daydream about it the day before. Oliver Queen running into her--that's something she'd prefer to avoid.

She quickly extracted herself from his arms, fixing her outfit so that she was at least somewhat presentable, and grabbed her tablet before rushing away from the situation, afraid that if she opened her mouth to say anything to Oliver Queen, she'd be instantly fired. And getting fired would very much prevent her from helping Walter.

The Walter situation soon became more serious than before, which was saying something considering his head of security was killed.  Felicity knew she needed to reach out the Vigilante, to explore the connection between Walter's book and the Vigilante's hit-list. In her gut, she knew that she could trust him, and that he had nothing to do with Walter's kidnapping. But her night time colleague might know who did.

They met outside Big Belly Burger, in an alleyway, and Felicity explained the situation as best she could, handing over the book, her possession of which seemed to startle the Vigilante. She filed that away for later questioning.

"And I really need Walter back, like asap," she impressed on her hooded friend.  
"Why do you need Mr. Steele back so badly, Felicity?"  
"Because if he doesn't come back, then someone is going to take his place. And because I will **_never_** work for Oliver Queen. **_Ever_**."

When he laughed, a small part of her wondered why that was so funny. That part of her, however, was trumped by the much larger part that basked in the fact that she made him chuckle. When he promised her that he'd do his best, she couldn't help herself from giving him a friendly--and maybe a little more than friendly--thank you kiss on the cheek.

The feeling of his skin and stubble against her lips and cheek did not leave her for days. And the only reason it left her at all was because she experienced an even better sensation: the feeling of his lips on hers.

She wasn't expecting him to saunter into her office late one night, intrude in her personal space, and pull her body to his, but she certainly didn't mind. Especially when the result was the best kiss of her life.

Until it wasn't, and she noticed he was bleeding all over her.

He told her what to do and where to go--the Glades, unsurprisingly, to the old Queen Steel Factory. She figured he picked that location because he was sure she know it, in case he passed out, which he did just a few minutes into their drive.

A large man wearing another hood was waiting for them. He didn't say much, just collected the Vigilante, thanked her, loaded him into a black van, and drove off.

She started crying then. The tears didn't stop until the early hours of the morning, and that was only because she had to get ready for work.

There was a press conference set up in QC's lobby when she arrived, and, knowing what happened the previous night, Felicity decided to hang around. That was when she saw Oliver Queen for the fourth time, getting out of a fancy car, with his driver a mere two steps behind.

She meant to divert her eyes, but something about his appearance stopped her. His skin was pale, he looked like he was in pain, and he was unstable on his feet. For a moment, she let herself wonder why, until he caught her eye. Instinctively, she glared, and returned her attention to the stage where Moira Queen stood, ready to make an announcement with the Chief of Police.

She already knew what they were going to say. That Moira Queen shot the Vigilante. That the Vigilante is dead. Tears threaten again, and to avoid them, she decided to check her buzzing phone, a smile breaking out on her face for the first time in hours.

He made it.

It wasn't until a few days after the shooting that he contacted her again. He wanted her in the field, and because she knew he'd keep her safe, she agreed without hesitation.

Although some people may consider a bomb getting strapped around their neck unsafe, Felicity was more focused on the fact that he did protect her in the end.

She knew though, when he came to her window, that he didn't believe that.

And his belief was exactly what pushed Felicity to take his face between her hands. At first, she meant to simply say a few words of comfort, to let him know that she was okay and that he had saved her, just like she knew he would. But then his lips were right there, and his eyes were dark, and she needed to taste him once more.

The rest was a blur. Rough hands along her legs and ass and waist. Soft and hard kisses all over her body. The pressure of his hard cock against her clit. The soft blankets beneath her. The feeling of nakedness. A firm, leather clad body over top of her...

She mumbled out some words, about how she wished she had something to call him. Calling out "My Arrow" didn't exactly scream intimate to her...but before she could press the issue, his mouth was on her and his finger was in her and she lost all her thoughts.

There was something about him that made her feel more liberal than she'd been with past lovers, and she yearned to please him. With a small smirk, Felicity moved her hands to herself, toying with her nipples as though she was alone, her eyes never leaving his masked face. She could tell that he was into it from the way his breath picked up and his hands clenched at his sides.

After a moment, she removed the only barrier of clothing she had left. Which meant he needed to get rid of some of his clothing. She didn't want to push him into revealing his identify, so she was more than comfortable to leave his hood on...but, when she couldn't get into his pants (literally), she moved to his torso, aching to feel what she knew was going to be the greatest six pack ever.    

And hell if it wasn't the greatest six pack.

Knowing she was going to need his help with the pants, she sat back, but not before slapping that fine ass of his. He followed her lead, and mirrored her position.

She started to explain her actions: "I don't need to know who you are...not yet...if you're not ready...," she mumbled, "But I do need you out of those pants, and clearly my fingers aren't quite--"

The image on his chest gave her pause.

It couldn't be.

The star.

The multi-pointed star she knew for one reason only.

She ripped open his jacket, confirming that the size and location was the same she'd become familiar with only weeks before when she spilled a latte on Oliver Queen's chest.

"Get out," she whispered, clutching her sheets around her naked body, trying to create a barrier between herself and the man she hated...the man she was falling in love with.

But he didn't move. He just stayed there, kneeling on her bed, staring at her.

"What's wrong? Talk to me Felicity," he begged.

And then she heard it. She heard him. The same begging she'd heard all those years ago, when his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Laurel Lance, had come to bail him out the next morning. And it pissed her off, all that rage she'd bottled about Hannah, seeping out at long last.

"Get out," she said, louder. "Get out, get out, get out!"

Reluctantly, he moved, gathering his stuff and heading out the window, leaving Felicity to stew on the turn of events.

Oliver Queen and _her_ Vigilante had the same tattoo, in the same location. It was too much of a something in common to not draw the obvious conclusion. And the more Felicity thought of them as the same person, the more it made sense.

The appearance of the Vigilante just as Oliver Queen arrived back in Starling. The show he put on for the public, pretending that five years lost at sea or on some island in solitude hadn't changed him. His pale, sickly demeanor the other day at the conference with his mother, and the look her had given her when he walked in.

She was convinced. There was no longer any doubt in Felicity's mind that Oliver Queen and the Vigilante were the same person.

Which meant that she was totally just about to suck Oliver Queen's cock.

Which meant that Oliver Queen just gave her the greatest orgasm of her life.

Which meant that, had she not discovered the tattoo, she was planning on have a few more orgasms, courtesy of Oliver Queen, that night and for the foreseeable future.

And to think, before the Vigilante-slash-Oliver Queen showed up at Felicity's window, she was confident her life could get any more complicated.

How wrong she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on chapter two? I know the idea of Felicity holding a grudge may be a little out of character for her, but the whole thing is AU so I went for it :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this second instalment!


	3. The Truth About Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth...or at least some of it...comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you everyone for reading & for your comments & kudos. I am extremely sorry for this extremely extended delay in updating, and I can only blame it on myself. The words, although written down, were re-written over and over, and I've decided I will post and simply be less than satisfied. 
> 
> I hope that Chapter 3 at least satisfies you! 
> 
> Chapter 4 will feature Felicity's perspective, and extend the story a little further in time. I hope to get that up in the next two weeks (there's a bit more writing to be done)

Oliver moved sluggishly away from Felicity's home, as if he'd been hit by a bullet (or two). _If words could kill_ , he thought, depressed, as he watched the woman he was falling for from the shadows across from her townhome. He couldn't understand what had happened. In a single moment he went from being actually happy--for the first time in well over five years--to this...to his heart being crushed.

Was this what every woman he'd been with felt at some point or another? Is this how Laurel and Sara and Sandra and all the other nameless faces felt when he cheated on them, or broke their hearts, or left them high and dry for another conquest?

Overwhelming guilt hit him. Stronger than the guilt he carried around every day. He'd felt the sensation before, when Sara walked onto the yacht, when his father killed himself for his failure of a son, when Shado died because of his choices.

Oliver's self-loathing was momentarily broken by movement in Felicity's window. She walked by, drawing in his attention, covered in a fluffy, polka-dotted robe, and disappeared into what Oliver knew was her bedroom's ensuite. She emerged ten minutes later, by Oliver's count, in different pyjamas than the thin sleep shorts she had been wearing and with her hair wrapped up in a towel.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't spent those ten minutes re-living every second of their encounter.

Watching her refreshed from a shower, though, made him uneasy. Certainly, he knew some people preferred to shower right after sex, but the very last thing Oliver wanted to do was wash away her scent. And so he was a little miffed that showering was her reaction.

But he hadn't let himself dwell on it.

At least until she began to strip the bed.

Clearly, there was an issue with him. She wouldn't have kicked him out otherwise. But was she seriously that disgusted by him, that she couldn't even crawl back into her sheets?

Even though the sun was on the horizon, Oliver stayed put, eager to see what she would do next. When she finally crawled under the sheets in her freshly made bed and switched off her light, he climbed onto his motorcycle to leave for the mansion.

He went to the foundry instead. He needed to think, and the barren concrete basement was his sanctuary.

With every rung on the salmon ladder and every slap with the eskrima, he puzzled over Felicity's reaction to him. It wasn't difficult for Oliver to settle on the cause of her reaction. He concluded that the reason she freaked out was his Bratva tattoo long before he'd left the shadows of her townhome.

He just wasn't sure why.

He wondered if Felicity was, somehow, involved with the Bratva. Judging by her reaction to the vigilante, Oliver guessed it wasn't the first time she'd been involved in something less than legal. However, if she'd been involved with the Bratva, in a business contract, then he doubted she'd have such an extreme reaction.

As Oliver knew all too well, the Bratva weren't kind to those that weren't their own. Potentially she had a past life experience with them that was horrific. A member of the family murdered, for example, wasn't outside of the bounds of the Bratva's operation.

He debated on calling Anatoly, but decided against it. If Felicity Smoak wasn't on the Bratva's radar, he wasn't keen on putting her there.

When Oliver exhausted his ideas around her reaction, he started analyzing his own. The shock he felt. The urge he had to talk. Not just about her, but about his own feelings, which had taken him completely by surprise. He'd come back to Starling secure in the knowledge that his ex-girlfriend was his person, and instead, he felt nothing but the need to make amends with Laurel, and felt utterly dependent on making Felicity happy and safe.

The idea that this petite blonde, self-proclaimed IT nerd had penetrated through everything that the island had built up was outrageous. But there was no denying that she made him better...and made him want to be better.

And Oliver soon settled on the fact that he couldn't deny his desire that Felicity reciprocated those feelings.

He attempted to reach her that night, sending her a short text, asking if they could talk.

She didn't respond.

He gave her 24 hours to say something. He knew she was alive and well at work (courtesy of Walter's assistant) and at home (courtesy of his stalking). When she didn't answer, he texted again.

She still didn't respond.

Luckily, an assassin came to Starling that evening, and gave him a reason to text her again. He'd gotten the assassin's phone and needed it decrypted to figure out who the target was. He was certain she would respond.

When she didn't, he broke several sparring dummies.

And then, because he needed her, he left the phone at her backdoor and texted her about the urgency of the matter. And because he couldn't not be a jerk, he added in that someone could die if she didn't help.

Diggle wasn't too pleased with him.

When she texted him back that she would help, this time, he smiled for the first time in days.

"Who's that Ollie?" Thea teased, poking him in the shoulder. He tucked the phone in his pocket as she made an attempt to look at the screen.  
"No one," he muttered, trying to contain his smile and failing epically.  
"Really? Because your face is telling me that it's a someone."

He glared at Thea before turning and calling out a good-bye. He needed to get to the foundry, in case Felicity requested a meet.

She did, an hour later, at the location that she dropped him off when he'd been shot. When he arrived, his phone buzzed, with directions to look behind the dumpster. When he did, he found the phone in the same box he'd delivered it to her in.

 Oliver quickly texted her a thank you, hoping that she would respond.

She didn't.

And it didn't sit well with Oliver.

His attention on their ever-failing relationship was diverted the next night. Helena and vertigo had returned to Starling, and his focus needed to shift to fixing the other messes he created.  

And then, in typical Oliver Queen fashion, he created another mess, going after Rasmus instead of Lawton, and losing Diggle in the process.

The loss of his partner, and of what he had with Felicity, didn't stop Oliver from continuing his mission. He needed to right his father's sins, and he did that the only way he knew how--striking names from the list, one by one.

Which is what brought about the laptop. The laptop he didn't want to turn over to the IRS without returning the money stolen from the people of Starling City. And Oliver only knew one person who could help. Without over-thinking it, Oliver headed to Felicity's townhouse and pulled out his phone, letting her know his location.

If she didn't respond, he told himself he'd break in and confront her about everything. Maybe even tell her the truth...

He toyed with that idea for less than a minute, interrupted when Felicity's beautiful face appeared before him.

"Hi."  
"What can I do for you, Mr. Hood?" she asked him, her voice devoid of that chipper babble he adored, and replaced with the professional, detached version she used with Oliver Queen. It hurt, that the Felicity he knew was misplaced.

He explained the situation, glad when she scoffed at his insinuation that she couldn't do something. He thought that her scoff and retort was a step in the right direction...until the door slammed shut in his face.

So, when Felicity texted him the same drop-off text as the she had for the decrypted phone, he wasn't expecting to see her. When he turned the corner and saw her standing there, arms wrapped around her middle, his walk faltered.

She turned at his stumble. 

"The money's been returned. But...I found something," she held out the laptop, "And I need your help."

Oliver smirked. _Finally_ , he thought.

Knowing he didn't want to ruin his only opportunity, he carefully decided on his next words. During his time with ARGUS, Waller had taught him many methods to deal with people, namely people who ARGUS wanted something from that had come to them wanting what ARGUS had. Oliver elected to try to goad Felicity. He hoped it would force her into admitting the cause of their relationship's shift, because honestly, the truth behind the shift was the only thing he wanted from Felicity, besides Felicity herself.

"And why, Ms. Smoak, do you think I'll help you?"

She leveled him with the same disbelieving look he'd fallen for the first time she met him as the Vigilante.

"Two reasons, but I'll start with the more pressing one. I think I have a lead on Walter."

Oliver held his ground. Having a lead on Walter was hardly a reason for the Vigilante to help.

"That's not a reason, Ms. Smoak."  
"Yes, Oliver. Yes it is."

He opened his mouth to retort, stopping when her words hit him.

She said "Oliver".

Felicity Smoak knew, with confidence, that he was Oliver Queen.

_Shit._

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head the other day and I felt like exploring it a little. I haven't given up on "Enclosed Spaces", but I've lost some of the creative juices for the story. I'm hoping to get back to it sooner rather than later (but the angst-ridden Season 3 they've got happening is definitely not helping me out). 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts. I haven't really edited it, so I apologize for any errors in advance. 
> 
> Also, as you're all aware, I do not own anything to do with Arrow, because if I did, there would be more Roy-Felicity fun, less Oliver-being-an-idiot, more smut, and less Ray in a double-breasted suit (or at least whatever version they put him in during episode no. 2)


End file.
